


“The Witch? Is that what they call me?"

by ScytheMeister7



Series: 30 Dialogue Prompts - April [30]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Human Jack, M/M, Magical Mark, Witch Mark, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScytheMeister7/pseuds/ScytheMeister7
Summary: Prompt Thirty: Jack searches for the Witch





	“The Witch? Is that what they call me?"

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, the final prompt and it's a day late...  
> I mean, who would I be if I wasn't late one more time, huh?
> 
> Jkjk, I'm sorry. I just ended up falling asleep way too early yesterday due to AP stress but yunno, excuses excuses. I hope you can forgive me? See, I wrote a long final prompt today! Hope you like it?

_Once upon a time, there was a man who was very special. So special, that people feared him. When he was young, only ten years old, they cast him from his home to live on his own, away from them. The boy did not understand why he was treated in such a way. His mother, before her passing, had always told him that his magick had been a gift, but the others saw it as something to hate._

_And so he lived in the woods on the outskirts of the town, far from everyone else and alone._

_As the years went on, people told stories about him. At night, there would be strange sounds that those close to the Line would hear,_ strange _sounds. Occasionally, there was howling. Sometimes, crazed laughter. But for the most part? Broken sobs._

_The stories grew as people told their own versions, twisting pre-existing stories into their own dramatic tales. Legends arose, telling about the boy, now man, who’d been thrown away, and what devilish things he did in the woods. No one knew the truth. But Jack? He was determined to find out._

 

Jack surveyed his surroundings carefully, peering into the thickness of the trees trying to catch even the slightest bit of motion. He’d heard something, or _someone_ pass by just moment ago, but before he could get off of his horse, the movement was already gone.

He could feel himself getting paranoid. Not every bit of movement was the Witch. Jack had been telling himself the same thing the entire ride here and yet, he still couldn’t stop himself from checking. After all, this was the farthest anyone had ever crossed the Line in years. The Witch had a way of keeping people out of his territory, though Jack’s mother had told him about one way no one else knew.

Jack had been new to the town when the Witch had first been cast out. Nine years old and the story of a boy who could do devilish things, Jack had been more than curious about the tales. As he grew up, the stories had only grown. The Witch slowly gained his name and there were so many legends about him that Jack’s curiosity had only gotten worse.

When his mother had told him about the secret path, Jack had been more than interested in how the woman had come to know that knowledge. Ma had been less so, keeping her mouth shut. No matter how much Jack had asked, she’d just grin and walk away.

And so Jack took his mother’s advice and found himself in an unfamiliar clearing. Behind him, Sam made a gruff sound and pawed at the ground. The poor horse seemed uncomfortable with being in a place they’d never been before and Jack could only offer a pat of comfort.

“Don’t worry, pal. We’ll be fine.” He said calmly. Sam made a sound that made it seem like he was calling out Jack’s bullshit, but the man said nothing, choosing instead to continue looking around.

In all honesty, he’d never expected himself to make it this far. Despite his mother’s reassurances that the path was real, Jack had still held his reservations about it. Standing there now, Jack was happy he’d listened to her. There had been many others over the past two years who’d tried to make it to the Witch to try and catch him.

Unfortunately, there was a magick barrier that ran through the woods, not allowing anyone to cross into what others had deemed _his_ territory. The barrier became known as the Line and people stopped trying to cross it. Anyone who persisted for too long ended up with bad burns along their arms and legs.

Jack let out a little huff and walked further into the line of trees. He wasn’t entirely sure what his plan of action was. After he’d decided to trust his mother, Jack had simply packed up enough food for three days and jumped onto Sam, riding through the center of town until he got here. The trip had taken about a day and a half and Jack was worried he’d come back with nothing.

To be honest, he wasn’t even sure what he planned on doing if he actually saw the Witch. Would he kill Jack for encroaching on his territory? The sounds some of the people had heard at night made it seem as though the Witch would steal people away and drag them into the forest, though no one was ever reported missing.

Would he see Jack and just ignore him? It was a possibility, though Jack wasn’t entirely sure how plausible it was. In the end, Jack just sighed. He was doing something incredibly dangerous, but it was something he had to do. For himself.

Jack reached for the rope he’d hung around the belt on Sam and tethered the horse to a nearby tree, calming the animal and telling him he’d be back soon. He also grabbed some bread and a container of water before turning back into the thickness of the trees.

Light flickered through the leaves, leaving random patterns along the rough floor of the woods. Jack had almost tripped several times, but after a while, he found a comfortable rhythm. Walking among the greenery, Jack felt peaceful. Even if he didn’t find what he’d come for, the walk would still be a pleasant thing to tell his mother about.

As he continued along, Jack was lost in his thoughts. Barely paying attention, he almost missed the sound of a voice singing in the distance. The man froze and listened hard.

The voice was pretty despite the gruff undertone to it. Clear and light, dancing through the branches and leaves carefully. As Jack creeped steadily towards its source, he figured it was one he’d never heard before. Close enough, he could finally hear, the words, sad despite the pleasant hum.

 

_No more today_

_Never again to play_

_Down and out I see_

_Alone with only me_

 

Jack peered carefully through the thick bushes and almost felt his breath catch. Standing by a stream was a man that couldn’t have been older than Jack himself.

He was sitting on a tall rock, back arched and neck bent back as the sun peeked through and hit him. His eyes were closed and he was wearing a pair of ragged pants, patches sewn to close old holes. His shirt looked to be in better condition, though it was a few sizes too small, stretching across the expanse of a broad chest. The bottom was raised a bit, revealing a thin line of tanned flesh.

Jack had never been interested in romance. When the other boys talked about the girls in town, Jack had brushed them off. Even when he’d thought he was gay, no male had sparked an interest in him either. However...standing here, watching who could only be the Witch sunbathe, looking so ethereal in the light, Jack couldn’t help but fall in love.

Jack hadn’t noticed when the singing stopped, but when he did, it was too late. The Witch had disappeared from where he’d been sitting and Jack felt a large hand push him up against a tree, crushing into his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe, stuttering out words the best he could as brown eyes stared him down curiously.

Jack could feel himself slowly suffocating and wondered if this was how he was going to die. Some part of him was glad he could have heard that beautiful voice before he left the plane of the living, however the gods had other ideas for him.

Slowly, the hand eased up against his throat, not moving completely, but slack enough for Jack to be able to gulp in a lungful of air, coughing as his vision came back to him.

“Wha-” The hand tightened warningly and Jack shut up. “How are you here?” The gruffness Jack had heard earlier was a lot more prominent now, the sound of the Witch’s voice soothing but also firm.

“I...I walked through the forest.” Jack said once he dared himself to speak. He’d been worried the hand at his throat would tighten once more but thankfully, it remained the same.

“Walked through the woods…. Impossible. My wards prohibit anyone from being able to just waltz in here.” The Witch said, a suspicious lilt in his voice. Jack looked up at him, watching the Witch’s eyes stare deeply into his blue ones.

He looked normal. Human. One of the town’s favorite stories about the Witch was the tell of what he looked like. There were many that swore he wore the skins of animals he’d killed while others claimed there were curved horns protruding his his head. One had even said that his eyes were blood red and his skin black and tar.

Jack could see that they were all wrong. His hair was long and dark, eyes a wonderful shade of dark brown, reminiscent of soft earth. His skin looked sun-kissed, a perfect bronze most likely earned from days of walking amongst the sun. Ethereal had been wrong. He looked almost god-like. A warrior contained within a human body. Jack was so caught up in his observations that he nearly missed the question.

“I swear. I was told of a path, one that got passed the Line. I wanted to see the Witch was real.” Jack regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. He expected his throat to be crushed for what he’d said but instead, the pressure was removed all together and the Witch moved back, letting out an amused laugh. It was a pleasurable sound, sending waves of heat down Jack’s body.

“The Witch? Is that what they call me? My, I expected something worse. Maybe the Devil’s Offspring? Or something dark and evil. But the Witch? It’s almost nice. I think I’ll keep it.” He said. “Much better than Mark, anyway.”

Jack raised a brow at that. _Mark_? Was that his real name? Jack felt stupid for a moment. Of course he would have a real name. Even in the original stories, the Witch had been a boy once, born of human parents. Jack was startled from his thinking when a hand clasped around his shoulder, spinning him around.

“Leave. You’ve found me and so your little adventure ends. You can go back to your town and tell the people of horrible stories about me, thicken the legends.” _Mark_ said. Jack almost cringed. It felt weird thinking of him that way.

Instead of letting himself get pushed forward, Jack dug his heel into the ground, halting his movement. “Leave?” He asked. He didn’t want to leave. This...man before him. Jack wanted to learn more. Seeing him in the flesh, Jack wanted to learn more.

Mark gave him a questioning look. “You look like her.” He said after a long silence. Jack narrowed his eyes in confusion. _Her?_ “She has the same accent as you. Pale as snow, too. And her eyes...you and her are the only two I’ve ever seen with such a bright blue coloring.” He explained. Jack let that sink in for a few moments before he realized just who the taller man was talking about.

“My mother… You’re talking about my ma. That’s how she knew the path beyond the Line.” Jack said, mostly to himself. From Mark’s expression, he’d still heard it.

“Well then...it seems Aileen was telling the truth about sending me a _‘man to end my lonely days’_ as she called it.” Mark said, eyeing Jack up. The younger man thought he should have felt uncomfortable under than heavy gaze, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. There was something about Mark that made him…. _feel_ things. Things he couldn’t really put into words.

“My ma, did she send me here on purpose?” Jack asked. Mark gave him a sympathetic smile.

“It seems as though we were suckered by the same woman.” He laughed. Jack was astonished. The man who’d just help him down by his neck, growling at him, was now standing casually, laughing and making jokes. It felt like he was dreaming, frankly.

Jack opened his mouth to joke back but as he did, a sharp pain hit him in the neck and he was falling. A panicked shout made its way to his ears, but after that, there was nothing. Nothing but blackness and strong arms catching him.

**Author's Note:**

> AND THATS IT. Tbh, this was A LOT more work than I thought it would be, but it was a really fun experience. It allowed me to write in a whole bunch of different ways and now, I think I'll be turning some of these into somewhat longer fics (maybe one or two chapters more for some and a full length fic for one in particular). Anyway, for those of you who have been following along, thank you so much. Maybe I'll do this again in the future, but that won't be for a LONG time. Now that this is over, I'll be back to updating Not One, Not Two (it's been much too long since I posted a new chapter, whoops). Anyway, thanks again guys and sorry for the long end note. Scythe Out. (why'd I sign out like that....)


End file.
